Auntie Minnie to the Rescue
by DrarryDramioneGirl
Summary: 16-year-old Harry Potter receives an ominous letter dated fifteen years previous. After suffering yet again at the hands of his uncle, Harry decides its time to leave Privet Drive for good. What awaits him at his destination will either fracture his already fragile psyche, or make him stronger. Adoption, manip!Dumbles, godfather!Severus. Eventual HP/HG M for abuse and language


Harry Potter was not a happy young man. In his hand, a letter trembled. The letter was written fifteen years ago by someone near and dear to Harry's heart: his mother. With anger, sadness and despair coursing through him, he read the letter for a second time, committing every detail of the content and of the handwriting to his memory.

My dear son,

I truly hope you never have to read this letter. I'm writing it, however, as a precaution for myself and your father, but as a warning to you.

There have been several events in the past year, since the day of your birth, that have us concerned for your future as well as ours. James overheard someone (I wish he could have guessed who it was, it is hard to distinguish voices when they're whispering though.) after an Order meeting saying something about a future betrayal, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius, and you. The best we can determine, the plan is for Peter to betray us and Sirius, and you'll be caught in the middle.

My son, please, if anything should happen to us, immediately go to Minerva McGonagall. She is your godmother, or if you've not started Hogwarts by the time you receive this letter, just say "Trinket". She's the Potter Family house elf, and she will take you to either Minnie or Sirius, who's your godfather.

I don't know when you'll get this letter, however, I implore you, if you are living with my vile sister and her oaf husband, please, immediately leave. Petunia and Vernon are the most vile, disgusting, magic hating pieces of filth I have ever met.

I love you, my son. Please be safe.

Love always and forever,

Mum

Below this, in his mother's hand, although hastily written, the ink smeared in places, was a post script.

Harry,

Voldemort is here. Peter betrayed us to Voldemort! Do not trust Dumbledore son! He orchestrated this whole thing! Remember what I said love! If you are at Petunia's GO TO MINNIE OR SIRIUS!

Mum

Scrawled quickly below his mother's last missive was a single line from his father.

I love you, Harry. -Dad

Drawing a deep breath into his lungs, he sat on the edge of his lumpy bed. Glancing at the letter once more, he said one small, innocuous word.

"Trinket."

Almost immediately, a small house elf, possibly shorter than Dobby, appeared in front of him.

"Ma…master James? No. You can't be Trinket's Master James. Young Master has Mistress Lily's eyes," the elf said, more to herself than Harry. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. "Master Harry! You'se alive! Trinket has been waiting for this day for fifteen years!"

Harry smiled sadly at the elf. "Hello, Trinket. I'm Harry Potter."

Without warning, the elf launched herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around him. Her arms immediately went limp as she felt the welts criss-crossing his back.

"Master Harry, what has the Muggles done to you?" Trinket said softly, tears in her eyes.

"It's nothing, Trinket. Listen, I need a favor. I can't do magic outside school, could you quickly put my things in my trunk and take me to Professor McGonagall?" he asked, giving his shoulders a slight roll, they were still tender from his "punishment" the night before.

A mere seconds later, all of Harry's worldly belongings (minus the letter from his Mum and Sirius' mirror, which went in Harry's pocket) were packed away in his trunk and he felt the familiar pull behind his navel that signaled Apparition.

Another few seconds, and Harry and Trinket appeared at McGonagall Hall. Minerva, having felt her wards shift, ran outside to see her godson crumpled unconsious on the ground, bleeding from his back.

"Mistress Minnie, Master Harry received the letter from Mistress Lily. Trinket swears that she didn't splinch the young Master! Trinket was most careful with the young Master!" she said, tears welling in her large eyes.

"I know you were careful, Trinket. It seems the constriction of Apparition aggravated Harry's barely-healed welts on his back. Please follow me with his trunk, dear. We need to stop his bleeding." With that, Minerva levitated Harry to the bedroom she had set up and had changed over the years to fit the needs of a child, starting with a crib, and several dozen toys, and now, the room was furnished with a large canopied bed and two bureaus.

Lowering Harry to the bed on his stomach, Minerva banished Harry's shirt. What she saw made the blood leave her face. Covering her beloved godson's back were fully-healed welts, slightly lighter than his skin color and raised roughly an eighth of an inch. Crossing over those were fresh welts, bleeding profusely. It appeared whoever did this used a belt, or whip to torture Harry.

Steeling her nerves, Minerva conjured a large bowl full of warm, soapy water and a soft cloth. Slowly, methodically, she started cleaning his wounds. As soon as the warm cloth touched an open wound, Harry jerked awake and started screeching. Placing the bowl and cloth on the bedside table, Minerva leaned over Harry and murmured in his ear while carding her fingers through his hair.

"Harry, it's Professor McGonagall. Please let me clean your wounds on your back."

Harry seemed to not hear her, or was totally oblivious to anyone touching or talking to him. Again, she tried to get through to him.

"Harry, darling, it's Aunt Minnie. You're safe. Please let me help you."

"A-aunt Min-Minnie?" Harry croaked, his sore raw from screeching.

"Yes, sweetheart. Trinket brought you here. You're at McGonagall Hall."

"I'm safe?" he whispered.

"You're as safe as a Gringott's vault, love. No one, save for those we invite, know where we are. Now, may I finish cleaning your back, or would you like a pain reliever first?"

"Potion, please."

Smiling softly, she Accio'ed a vial of the familiar potion and he drank it greedily.

Grimacing a bit from the taste, he relaxed once more and allowed Minerva to resume wiping the blood from his back.

A few moments later, Harry's back was free of blood, and Minerva could clearly see the evidence of years of abuse. Scars in varying sizes crossed his back in a morbid plaid pattern. Pursing her lips, she summoned an antiseptic and applied it gently to the new cuts. While she let the potion work it's way into the lacerations, she took the time to give Harry an overall medical scan. What she saw disgusted her. Reading through the list of maladies, her anger grew more and more. She decided to make a copy that appeared to be similar to a Muggle doctor's chart.

She read through it to make sure everything that was caused by magical means was omitted or otherwise explained away by inconspicuous means. She adjusted the spacing and placement of several items before she was pleased with them.

Harry J. Potter

Date of birth: 31 July 1980

Today's date: 20 July 1996

Observations: Mister Potter has endured several years of physical abuse, as evidenced by the abrasions and lacerations crossing his back in a lattice fashion, some appearing to be at least 5 years old. He is severely malnourished, weighing only eight stone (112 pounds). At age sixteen, the average male should weigh approximately eleven stone (154 pounds). His eyesight is poor, however, abuse did not factor into his eyesight, merely genetics. He has several scars on the front of his body, from his forehead (lightning bolt shaped, caused by a childhood accident) to scars on his legs (educated hypothesis- thrashings with a switch). Upon examination, Mister Potter showed no signs of sexual abuse, actual or attempted.

Recommendations: It is my belief that the minor child needs to be immediately removed from the custody of Vernon and Petunia Dursley and parental and legal rights transferred to the child's godmother, Minerva Geraldine McGonagall.

Update: The minor child was successfully transferred to Mrs. McGonagall's care and will stay under her care until he reaches his majority on 31 July 1998.

Minerva quickly sent the report off the Muggle way to the Surrey Police Department. Turning back around to face Harry, she quickly rolled up the parchment copy that was to go in Harry's medical file at Saint Mungo's. Smiling softly, she noticed her godson, sleeping peacefully, a small smile dancing across his slumbering face.

Deciding that sleeping in too-big jeans and holey trainers wasn't comfortable, Minerva decided to change his clothes while he slept. After pulling the trainers off, she carefully unlatched his belt and gave the jeans a slight tug. Wrinkling her nose in disgust of the obvious and ill care for hand me down, she decided to transfigure Harry some pajama bottoms for the night. Grabbing a pair of her late husband's pajama bottoms, she transfigured them so they were lightweight and one hundred percent cotton, as to not stick to any cuts she may have missed, she also took them in a few sizes so they fit Harry just right. Carefully using a spell that mothers often used to change their child's soiled diaper in the night without waking them, she slipped the pants onto Harry.

Before she left Harry's room, she conjured a pitcher of water and a glass in case he woke up from thirst with a cooling charm placed on them, and a short note so he wouldn't panic.

Harry,

If you wake up and I'm not with you, please feel free to make yourself at home. The loo is the door by your bed. I took the liberty of taking your trainers and jeans off, I hope you don't mind. I transfigured some pajamas for you to wear tonight. A t-shirt and a bathrobe are both on your bureau, should you need them. Please just say my name if you need me, I'll hear you.

Love,

Aunt Minnie

Satisfied she had given enough reason to avoid a meltdown, she quickly and efficiently bandaged his back and picked his jeans up off the floor where she had tossed them. As she picked up the horrid jeans, she heard a dull thunk. She looked down to see a mirror had landed on the carpet, and beside that mirror was a letter in a handwriting style Minerva McGonagall would never soon forget. Sitting in a comfortable chair by Harry, Minerva read the letter. Each line ignited her rage a little bit more until she couldn't take it anymore. She ran from the room, letter and mirror still in hand, and locked and warded herself in her bedroom. Once there, she screamed for all she was worth. After thirty minutes of screaming, she asked her elf, Mipsy, for some warm tea.

Having finished half her tea, Minerva McGonagall was getting quite sleepy. Her last thought for the next few hours was of the portraits in her sitting room, waiting anxiously for news on Harry.


End file.
